Tiny Little Fractures
by crimsonandcloveroverandover
Summary: A little Post-Season-Ten - Lois and Clark moment. Inspired by Season-Ten's 'Abandoned'...


Clark Kent peered at his wife across their adjoining desks. He watched her as she typed furiously, flicking her chocolate-coloured hair out of her eyes, gnawing on the end of a pencil as the toe of her boot tapped the edge of her desk restlessly. Frantic. He recognized this particular state. He'd seen it before. And he didn't like it.

His eyes scanned her face; her hair escaping from the confines of her messy bun and brushing against her shoulders, framing her face. God, she was beautiful. Releasing her pencil and letting it drop to her desk, she bit her lip with a frown as she hit the 'delete' button on her keyboard – repeatedly - with unnecessary force. This wasn't her usual Lois-Lane-Impending-Deadline-Frenzy-Mode. This was something else.

Her phone buzzed from beneath a pile of papers that littered their desks. Picking it up, she glanced at the screen before sliding it away from her – unanswered. Clark caught a glimpse of the Caller-ID as the phone skimmed across the desk before him: Chloe. Pretending he hadn't noticed, Clark returned to his own article. He heard her sigh in exhaustion. His eyes traced her features as hers re-edited her article, concentration creasing her brow as she chewed on her lower lip. Clark watched her, concern etched across his face.

Lois glared around her monitor at him, her eyebrows raised. _Stop it_. She told him silently. Clark re-focused his eyes on his own article, though he couldn't control them, following her movements as she rose gracefully from her chair and headed for the printer. Her phone buzzed again. Chloe. She ignored it. Again. Grabbing her bag, her now printed article and her coat she moved to exit their office.

'Lo…' He began rising from his own chair reaching for her.  
>'Smallville, I'm fine.' Lois replied before departing. His eyes followed her until she disappeared into the depths of the elevator. Clark sighed. She wasn't fine. Far from it.<p>

* * *

><p>The first time he'd seen her like this, had been years ago. She'd been staying at the Farm. She'd been driving him crazy - which was becoming a common occurrence. Until, one week – she stopped. It was like a cone of silence had enveloped her. There was no teasing. No attempt to get out of chores… No talking. At first he had relished the silence. Until the silence had become unnerving. Unnatural. He didn't like it.<p>

So he had baited her, badgered her. In an attempt to provoke her – to no avail. Nothing. It was the nothingness that was the most disturbing. No punching. No eye-rolling. Nothing. He was relieved when his parents began to notice Lois' silent demeanour. He'd stood soundlessly in the doorway of the kitchen, watching as his mother sat quietly next to Lois at the island, whispering to her, stroking her honey-coloured hair. He could have listened to their conversation if he had wanted to. He had wanted to. But he didn't.

That night, after watching Lois push her spaghetti around her plate, the four of them had somehow ended up in the living-room together. His parents had been reading the paper - wordlessly trading sections as they finished them. There had been an old movie on. Lois had been curled in a ball, her feet tucked beneath her, reading… He wasn't sure he'd ever seen her read anything thicker than a newspaper before. Yet there she was, sitting on his couch, Shelby at her feet, reading a novel. The book was more than a little worn. The cover was faded, the pages were slightly yellowed, the corners dog-eared. That week, she never seemed to be without it.

He had watched as she threw herself into work. She'd been working at _The Talon_ at the time, taking on extra shifts, working after hours. One night while he and his parents had been sitting down to dinner, she had wandered through the kitchen-door, her _Talon_ apron still on.  
>'Lois?'<br>'They sent me home.' She had answered quietly, letting him gently remove the pale-blue apron from her.

A year later, he'd noticed as silence engulfed her once again. Lois had been staying at the farm. He watched as she had thrown herself furiously into her Chief-Of-Staff duties, frantically making phone-calls on behalf of his mother, adjusting schedules and event-appearances. She didn't slow down. Functioning solely on caffeine, he had watched as Lois flew through the long To-Do-List she had set for herself.

He'd made the decision to mention Lois' frenetic demeanour to Chloe, the next he saw her. He did. Standing in her dorm-room her arms folded across her chest, _Chloe_ had told him bluntly: to leave Lois alone. To stay away from her, not to antagonize her and to just let her be. That if he didn't, he'd answer to her. He'd nodded. Reassuring Chloe that he would let Lois be, he had headed back to the Farm. Back to Lois.

She'd finally stilled. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, Shelby beside her, a large cup of coffee steaming on the coffee-table before her, her book in hand. Soundlessly he sunk into the couch cushions beside her. Her shoulder coming to rest softly against his leg.

Over the years he watched as she buried herself in her work – even more so than usual – in search of an endless distraction. Anything, to distance herself from the fractures that had developed over time. She pulled solid hours at _The Inquisitor_ and then at _The Daily Planet_. He barely saw her, until he started working at _The Planet_ himself.

He'd watched her across their adjoining desks in the Basement of _The Planet_ as she had vigorously typed her article, ignored her calls and bustled around the Basement frantically. He'd noticed the corner of her book poking out from the depths of her bag – perched on the desk.

He'd wanted to say something, anything – but hadn't been able to find the words. He'd brought her a fresh cup of coffee. He had opened his mouth to say something as she wordlessly accepted it. She'd glared at him across their desks. _Don't even think about it_. Lois had warned him silently.

Later that night, he had gone to see her at _The Talon_. He had found her, amidst a sea of her possessions which had been thrown aimlessly around the living-room. She hadn't been able to find it. She hadn't been able to find her book. Tears streamed down her face as she rummaged ferociously through draws, beneath stacks of papers and copies of _The Planet_, under her bed and through the contents of her closet – which were strewn carelessly across her bedspread.

He had sped back to _The Planet_, gently picking up the faded novel that had fallen out of her bag and thudded to the floor, skidding beneath her desk during her mad rush earlier that afternoon following her latest lead.

He had returned to Lois' apartment, finding her in the tiny kitchenette - searching through the cupboards above her head.

'I found this…' He said quietly, as she noted his appearance. _Where?_ She had asked noiselessly tears forming in her eyes as she frowned, taking it from him as he grasped her shoulder gently.  
>'It was under your desk.' She'd nodded, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. She looked up at him through her lashes.<br>'She used to read it to me.' Lois had whispered, fingering the faded cover. He'd brushed her hair from her face, lightly with a nod. He'd understood. 'Thank-you.'

The year after that, she had been back at the Farm. With him. He wasn't sure if the video-tape from The General had helped or hindered. He'd caught her watching them once.

She had been sitting on the floor of the living-room, her shoulders shaking. He had sunk to the floor behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against his chest. Her hands had gripped his arms, holding him in place as he sat behind her, watching tears fall down the face of her mother. Tears, which were no doubt mirrored on Lois' face. He wasn't sure how long they had sat there. Long after the tape had finished. Her tears had subsided and she had fallen asleep, curled against his chest cradled securely in his arms.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Clark shuffled through the door of their Metropolis apartment. He sighed in relief and smiled at the sight of his wife, curled up on the couch, her book in her hands. She looked up and caught his eye with a small smile. Clark knelt beside her; pressing his lips gently to her temple, before he headed for the shower.<p>

Emerging minutes later, Clark found her in their living-room, a small blue glass duck in her hands. She flashed him a soft smile as she set it back in its usual place on the window-sill. In an instant he was right beside her, his strong arms encircling her waist, pulling her into the warmth and safety of his broad chest. Lois buried her face into his neck, squeezing her eyes shut as a fresh wave of tears threatened to flow. He pulled her closer, as her body shook silently.

Lois' tears subsided and she was vaguely aware of Clark's hands rubbing her back, soothing her sobs. As her breathing returned to normal, she remained cradled against his chest.

She stared at the soaked fabric of Clark's grey t-shirt. She let out a small chuckle. _Sorry_. She apologized wordlessly leaning back from him and pointing at the large patch of drenched material. He shook his head. _Doesn't matter_. He told her silently, his arms never releasing her. Lois stared intently at his shirt, her gaze never meeting his.

'I just really miss her.'  
>'I know.' He replied quietly. Lois' glistening hazel eyes, met the warmth and love of his deep blue-green orbs.<p>

Lois smiled. He did know. He never pushed her. He never asked for answers. He was simply there - whenever she needed him, offering her comfort, solace and unconditional love. Her hands against his chest, she pushed herself onto her tip-toes, softly pressing her lips to his. Clark's hands wound themselves around her once more, pulling her closer to him as his warm lips caressed hers.

Her hands traced his face as she pulled back from the kiss with a content sigh.

'Thanks, Smallville.' She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him to her. Lois sighed again she felt him nuzzle softly into the silky curls of her hair, pressing light kisses into her shoulder as he held her close.

The week was never easy. It never had been. It wasn't supposed to be. Though, through it all Clark's presence was more than just a comfort, it was more than reassurance. Lois grinned into his neck. It was love.


End file.
